


Serendipity My Ass

by sternchencas



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Doctor!Cas, Enemies to Lovers, Hint of Angst, M/M, Soul Mate AU, bi!cas, but mainly fluff, meet ugly, nurse!Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-18
Updated: 2018-05-18
Packaged: 2019-05-07 19:55:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 12,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14678328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sternchencas/pseuds/sternchencas
Summary: Dean Winchester has a particularly bad day. Not only does he have a thousand things to do, like grocery shopping and getting to a doctor’s appointment, he also keeps running into Castiel Novak, an annoying and impolite douche who’s only reason to exist is making Dean’s live a living hell. When Castiel also shows up at Dean’s workplace,  things are about to get ugly. After all, Castiel is neither cute nor nice, and definitely not Dean’s type.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lotrspnfangirl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lotrspnfangirl/gifts).



> This story is written for the DeanCas FlipFest. The idea is to take certain tropes (in my case for example meet cut or bi!Dean) and flip them. So if some things in the story seem weird, it's intentional :D Thanks to the [profound bond discord](https://profoundbond.net/flipfest) for making this nice challenge!
> 
> Also, thank you to [amirosebooks](http://amirosebooks.tumblr.com/) and [justholdingstill](https://justholdingstill.tumblr.com/) for some outstanding beta work! :D
> 
> And a big thank you to [lotrspnfangirl](http://lotrspnfangirl.tumblr.com) for not only making art but basically illustrating the whole story! :)
> 
> P. S. Parts of the story play in a hospital and I apologize for any inaccuracies, but since it's not exactly a medical AU, I didn't do extensive research.

“Hey buddy, watch it!” Dean shouts when the guy in front of him comes closer. The next few seconds happen in slow motion. The man either doesn’t hear him or thinks Dean is talking to somebody else because he turns around without slowing down, ignoring the fact that they’re about to occupy the same space. Dean tries to get out of his way, but the coffee shop is full of people, and there’s nowhere to go. Trying to avoid a disaster, Dean lifts his cup of coffee to get out of the stranger’s way, but the guy bumps into Dean’s arm. 

The cup tips and Dean can feel how the weight of the cup shifts. The coffee sloshes over the cup’s rim and ends up as a big brown splash all over the guy's dress shirt. It’s a miracle that it doesn’t hit his suit jacket and trench coat in the process. If that wasn’t enough, the man’s cup does the same thing. Only the fact that Dean saw it coming saves him from the same fate. The man’s coffee ends up on the floor instead of Dean.

The guy looks down at himself, into his cup, and then at Dean. He furrows his brows, and when he breathes in, Dean knows a storm is coming. “Were you born this clumsy, or did you have to educate yourself further?” he spits out in a deep, rumbling voice.

Dean had been about to apologize, but since the pompous douche has nothing better to do than insult him, he huffs a sarcastic laugh. “Dude, you ran into me. And I tried to warn you.”

“Warn me about what?” The man grunts. “Your inability to hold a cup straight?”

“Oh, you have no idea,” Dean says, his voice dripping with more sarcasm, “I have a hard time doing anything straight. You have some fancy words for that as well?”

The man stares at him like he wants to smite him right there before turning on his heel and heading for the bathroom. His reaction leads Dean to believe that he’s not only an asshole, but a homophobic one at that, and he’s happy he gave the guy a nice, hot shower. “Tell your maid to use some Club Soda on that shirt!”

Some of the other patrons turn to look at Dean, but he doesn’t care. He drinks the sip of coffee that's still in his cup and gets in line for a new one. It’s 6 in the morning, and he has a killer day ahead of him. He needs his coffee. While he waits, he texts simultaneously with his brother and two co-workers who asked him to change their shifts at the hospital. He’s the head nurse, which means he has a shitload of extra responsibilities without the proper payout.

That’s one of the reasons today already sucks. The other is that Dean needs to get his car fixed. He was lucky enough to find a cheap shop, but since they don’t charge as much, the downside is that they’ll take their sweet time getting it done. 

Dean takes his new coffee and walks outside. Since he’s in a bit of a hurry, he waves for a taxi and keeps texting, the conversation annoying him more and more. He always makes sure to ask everybody about their plans before scheduling the shifts, and he still ends up moving a thousand things around.

The noise of a car door closing makes him look up, and he can’t believe what he sees. The guy from the coffee shop is stealing his cab. Dean taps against the window, but the man keeps talking to the driver, and they take off.

“Jesus, what an asshole,” Dean mumbles, baffled by the man’s behavior. An old woman tugs on the leash of her dog to make a wide circle around him. “Hey, he took my cab, okay?” he informs her, but the woman still gives him the stink eye and hurries along.

Dean wonders if today is some holiday for impolite people, and since there’s not one taxi in sight, he makes his way on foot, picking up the pace. He has to do some shopping and get to a doctor’s appointment before work, so he’s on a tight schedule.

Now that Dean has to walk, he allows himself a tiny detour through a small park. He breathes in the cleaner air; the silence away from the streets might be able to lift his mood, but he pays for his decision when his shoe makes contact with a big pile of brown, stinking goo.

“Shit, shit, shit,” Dean curses while trying his best to wipe his shoe on the grass nearby.

“How perceptive, I might have misjudged your intelligence,” a familiar voice says.

Dean lifts his head and hopes that it’s not who he thinks it is. The first thing he sees is a tiny dog, excitedly panting at him. And sure enough, the guy from the coffee shop is holding its leash. 

This time Dean passes sarcasm and goes right to anger. “What’s your problem?! Are you too good to pick up your dog’s shit?” he grunts.

The man holds up a plastic bag. “I was about to,” he says, his voice drooling with hubris, “but you found a way to yet again make a simple task into a complete mess. Do you need some assistance with walking? I might be able to recommend a specialist.”

He proceeds to pick up what’s left of his dog’s business, while Dean is about to explode. “I wouldn’t have to walk,” he says, doing his best to keep his voice under control, “if you hadn’t stolen my cab.”

The man gets up and throws the bag in a nearby trash can, still eying Dean like a cockroach. “I didn’t see you anywhere near the cab.”

“That happens when you’re a self-centered, uncultured snot,” Dean fumes, still doing his best to get his shoe clean.

The man looks him up and down before he deadpans, “You ought to know.”

Dean is so shocked by the nerve of this man that he doesn’t know what to say, and the stranger uses his silence to get away again, still not held accountable for his rudeness.


	2. Chapter 2

Although he doesn’t have time for it, Dean takes another detour, this time to his apartment to change his shoes, soaking his other ones in water and soap in the hopes of getting the stench out.

It’s so typical. When other people meet a stranger on the street, they later boast about finding their soulmates. And what does Dean get? A literal load of crap.

Dean pulls up the sleeve of his henley. For the millionth time in his life, he studies the markings on his lower arm. Since he asked his parents for the first time what they were, he’s been told that somewhere out there is a person with the same soul mark. His soul mate.

He’s seen how they match, first on his parents and later when his brother found his girlfriend and now wife. Dean doesn’t have that kind of luck though. The mark on his arm resembles a burning tree, with something around it he can’t describe. It could be beautiful, if it wasn’t for the fact that he’s never met somebody who’s mark came even close.

In a particularly dark time in his life, he even tried to cover it up with a tattoo, but the ink disappeared. Apparently, you can’t trick destiny. Not that Dean cares anymore. Fate brings him a guy in a suit and a trench coat who’s a stuck up bastard without manners. He scoffs. Imagine if that was his soul mate. 

Dean lets out a long sigh and covers up his arm before heading out. He walks to the store closest to his home, intending on getting the largest pie he can get there. He probably won’t have time to eat it till later in the evening, since he has to attend a charity gala hosted by the hospital, but just knowing it’s waiting for him will be the one thing that gets him through the day.

Of course, it isn’t that easy. Dean is carrying a basket full of groceries and the only thing missing is the pie. When he approaches the display, he’s shocked to find it almost empty. There’s only one box left and the second he wants to grab it; it disappears from view. When Dean looks up, he wants to hit and throw things. Like an avenging angel from hell, there’s the stranger again, sent to earth with the sole purpose of torturing Dean.

“Dude,” Dean says with not much fight left in his voice, “I really, really need that pie.”

“Oh, do you?” the man asks while putting the pie in his basket.

Dean wants to smack him just for the tone of his voice but tries to reason with him. “Can you stop being a dick for one hot second and give me a break? You’ve ruined my day pretty much already. Just give me the pie, and we call it even,” Dean suggests.

“I ruined your day?” the man huffs. To make his point he pulls the lapels of his trench coat apart to show his shirt, though the argument would carry more weight if it were the ruined one. He found the time to change, and the only thing not perfect about him is his ruffled hair and his tie which is turned inside out.

Dean shrugs his shoulders. “Just get some cake.”

The man is clearly appalled by that idea. “If I wanted cake, I would buy a cake,” he says, “I want pie, it’s not the same.”

This is the only acceptable thing that’s come out of his mouth so far today, and Dean might actually like him for it if it weren’t for all the shit he’s pulled so far. “So you're not just having a bad day. You put effort into being an asshole,” Dean says. The stranger squints at him with murder written on his face so Dean shrugs. “I don’t have time for this crap.”

This time it’s him who walks away, and instead of the pie, he gets some chocolate before heading to the register. The cashier greets him with a smile. “Hey, Dean!”

“Hiya, Garth,” Dean says. They engage in their usual chit-chat while Garth scans Dean’s items. It takes them long enough so that the stranger ends up behind Dean. Of course. He tries his best to ignore him, but Mr. Asshole keeps checking his watch and can’t seem to stand still for a second. 

An evil plan takes shape in Dean’s mind, and although he’s in a hurry, he checks his wallet for coupons. Some are expired, and others only work with specific items, but since Garth is employee of the year, he checks each one to give Dean the biggest discount possible. In the end, Dean grabs one of the sweets displayed at the register and has to keep in an evil laugh when Garth tries to scan it for two solid minutes before finally punching in the number by hand.

When they are done, Garth gives Dean another big smile, “Do you have a loyalty card?”

Dean can already hear the stranger breathing harder behind him, so he rummages around in his wallet again. “Oh sure, that little sucker’s gotta be in here somewhere.”

Garth scans the card and gives it back to Dean. “Do you collect our bonus points?” he asks, and Dean wants to kiss him when the man behind him grunts. 

“No, what’s that?” Dean asks and with every second that Garth explains, Dean’s day becomes a little better. 

Of course, he decides to collect the points, and when Garth tells him his total, Dean pays in cash and takes his sweet time counting out the change. In his whole life, it has never taken him so long to pay for something, but it’s worth it. The stranger looks like laser beams might come out of his eyes any second and Dean throws him a kiss before leaving the store.

Dean thinks his luck might have turned. He walks over to the bus station and spots the bus he needs at the light before the stop. He’s just in time. When he gets on, two old ladies get out, and Dean takes their spot. He’s about to settle in as the bus drives on, but there’s loud banging at the bus’ door. The driver mumbles something under his breath but opens the door again, and Mr. Asshole gets on, taking deep breaths.

Now Dean knows why the guy was in such a hurry. He starts wishing he’d missed the bus after all. Instead, the man walks up to him. “You mind?” he asks, gesturing for Dean to make room.

“You gotta be kidding,” Dean says, but the guy keeps staring at him and from the corner of his eye Dean can see some people watching him. 

That’s typical. Now Dean looks like the asshole who doesn’t let the poor guy who almost missed the bus sit down. Dean scoots over to the window, puts his shopping bag on his lap, and seethes with rage, hoping the stranger might feel it.

The man doesn’t look at him, and at least makes an effort to sit so far apart that they don’t touch. He holds on to his shopping bag and pulls an envelope out of his inner coat pocket. Dean manages to make out the name of the recipient. Castiel Novak. 

Dean almost starts laughing. Of course, the man has a stuck up name as well. Probably one of those guys with loaded parents who have never worked a day in their lives and think the whole world belongs to them. While “Castiel” pulls some papers out of the envelope, Dean looks out of the window, trying his best to ignore him. As soon as Dean’s stop comes up, he’ll never see Castiel again, so he might as well erase him from his mind right now.

Dean manages to detach from the situation and is daydreaming about his next day off when he notices what street they’re on. He’s about to ask Castiel to let him pass, but then Castiel gets up and walks to the door. Dean sighs, but stands up as well and follows him off the bus. When Castiel walks into the same direction Dean has to go, Dean stops and checks his phone. He texts his co-workers again, and only when he feels like he’s given Castiel enough of a head start does he start walking.

Even counting the run-ins with Castiel, this will likely be the worst part of Dean’s day. He hates to go to the doctor’s, and he hates it even more when it’s a urologist. Of course, it’s important to do your check-ups, but if somebody has to be handling Dean’s balls, he prefers it if they’re not wearing a lab coat.

At least the doctor’s assistant, Lisa, gives him a big smile and Dean talks with her for a bit before heading to the waiting room. When he arrives there, he immediately wishes he’d stayed at the desk to keep chatting. Or, even better, that he hadn’t have left his bed this morning. 

The waiting room is empty but for one person: Castiel Novak. 

When Dean enters the room, Castiel looks up from his magazine to greet him with a polite “hello” before noticing who he’s talking to. He’s as petrified as Dean, and they stare at each other for a few seconds, but then Castiel looks back down, and Dean takes a seat, as far away from Castiel as possible.

A dead silence falls over the room, only broken once in a while when Castiel writes down a word in his crossword puzzle. Pretty soon Dean feels an oppressed tingling crawling up his back, his shoulders tense and his throat dry. He hates waiting as much as anyone, but this borders on torture.

Dean licks his parched lips and clears his throat, and from the corner of his eye, he can see how Castiel rolls his shoulders like he’s annoyed by the sound. Just like in the store Dean rises to the occasion. In a random pattern, he clears his throat, taps his foot on the floor and drums his fingers on the armrest of the chair.

Dean can see that Castiel is trying not to react, but once in a while he cringes or stops writing. When Dean adds coughing to the list of annoying things to do while waiting, the other man finally loses it. “Is there any particular reason why you can’t be still for one second?” he asks.

Dean acts surprised. “Excuse me?” 

“Your huffing and puffing,” Castiel grunts, “are you done soon?”

“Oh, that.” Dean gives Castiel a big smile. “You see, I don’t give a damn about other people and do whatever the hell I want.” Castiel squints at him again, and Dean leans back in his chair and grins. “Oh no, wait. That was you.”

Dean only gets another death stare as an answer, and Castiel gets back to his crossword. Dean wants to continue his torture routine, but Lisa comes into the room and holds up a cup in front of him. “We need a urine sample from you, Mr. Winchester,” she says with her usual smile. “Leave it on the tray when you’re done.”

When she leaves, there’s a small huff from Castiel like he’s stifling a laugh and Dean gets up, holding the cup like a shield. “Nothing wrong with checking the pipes once in a while,” he says, but he’s happy to get away from Castiel. There’s something so immensely irritating about him.

Dean does as he’s told, and gets a soda from the vending machine out front before going back to the waiting area. Castiel is still there, thumbing through a car magazine. Dean contemplates starting up his annoyance routine again, but Lisa appears in the doorway with another cup. “I’m sorry, Mr. Novak, I need a sample from you, too.”

Castiel gets up and is about to leave the room when Dean can’t hold in another stupid comment. “I hope you’re not planning on reproducing.”

“No, just-” Castiel pauses and emphasizes the words, “checking the pipes.”

Dean’s not sure if Castiel means to insult him, quoting his own words back to him, but before he can spend any more time thinking about it, Lisa comes back. “Doctor Henricksen is ready for you now,” she says like it’s the best thing that could happen to him today. 

Dean follows her, not ready at all.


	3. Chapter 3

“You are kidding, right?” Dean says, looking back and forth between his two co-workers. “We texted all day, I changed your shifts, and now you want me to switch them back?”

“Yeah, well we talked about it again-” Ruby starts.

“And we decided it works out best the way it was,” Meg finishes.

Dean hates when they do that. They’re like evil twins that happen to look nothing alike. “Fine,” he sighs, “I’ll change it back. But that’s it. No more switching, no complaining, no nothing.”

“Great,” Ruby squeals and kisses Dean’s cheek before rushing off. Meg pats Dean’s shoulder before following her and Dean turns to his schedule to correct it again.

“This is where you find the operation schedule. And if you need anything, there’s always at least one nurse here to help you out,” Dean hears Missouri say. She’s probably showing some newcomer around, but Dean doesn’t look up and keeps scribbling.

“Thank you,” another voice answers, “I think I can find my way now. I don’t want to keep you from your other responsibilities.”

They keep talking, but Dean doesn’t listen anymore. Hearing that voice sends a shiver down his spine. It can’t be.

“Dean?” Missouri asks, her voice loud and strained like she’s not saying it for the first time.

“I’m sorry,” Dean mumbles and looks up. “What can I do for you?”

Sure as hell there’s the guy again, standing next to Missouri, his trench coat swapped for a white lab coat. Dean hopes that Castiel hates this as much as he does. Dean loves his job, he really does, but it’s already stressful enough. The last thing he needs is a know-it-all doctor with no manners getting on his case. 

“Dean, this is Doctor Castiel Novak. Castiel, this is Dean Winchester, the head nurse. He can probably tell you more about this hospital than I can,” Missouri says. “Castiel, it’s up to you how you address everybody, but the staff usually operates under a first name basis.”

Castiel offers Dean his hand. “That’s fine by me.”

“Me, too,” Dean says, taking Castiel's hand and hating the fact that it’s a good, strong handshake.

Missouri smiles. “Good, then I’ll leave you to it.”

She disappears around the corner. Dean wishes he could do the same, but no matter how he feels about Castiel, Dean is too much of a professional to leave him hanging. He turns back to his sheet. “So you’re a doctor. How fitting,” Dean says.

“And you’re a nurse,” Castiel says. He phrases the words like a statement, but there’s something in his tone that Dean can’t place. It sounds like wonder, and Dean tries to suppress the anger. Castiel wouldn’t be the first to make fun of a male nurse. 

“I assume she’s going to let you do clinic hours to ease you in?” Dean asks, trying to change the subject.

“Yes, that’s correct,” Castiel says, and Dean checks the folders of the waiting patients. There’s a god after all. The waiting room is packed with people, and Dean can assign Castiel to any of them. 

Dean pushes one of the files to Cas. “Treatment room two. Chop chop.”

For once Castiel doesn’t have a snappy comeback. He checks the file and gives Dean a small nod before he walks away. Dean almost misses the death stare. But then he has his hands full with someone the exact opposite of Castiel.

“Dean, there you are,” Charlie chirps. She leans over the counter, half her hair blocking Dean’s sheet. “Have you met the new doctor?”

Dean grunts and moves Charlie’s hair to the side. “I did.”

“He seems dreamy. Could be fun if you play your cards right,” Charlie goes on before rifling through the patient files. 

Dean huffs. “Yeah, right. Because the guy is totally gay for me.”

“Hey,” Charlie furrows her brows and takes Dean’s pen away, so he has to stop writing and look at her. “What’s with you today? Usually, you’re the one who’s all over the new guys, and this one is nice and polite.”

“He is what?” Dean laughs. “That guy is the most horrible person I’ve ever met.”

“Okay, tell me,” Charlie says. She walks around the counter and pats Dean’s leg when she sits down. 

Dean has absolutely no interest in talking about Castiel, but Charlie won’t give up. He doesn’t even try to argue but tells her about his day, and she nods along. In the end, she keeps quiet for a moment, and Dean is sure he changed her mind. "So?” he asks. 

“You know, that’s so weird,” Charlie says. “He just held the door open for me and asked me to call him Cas. And Hester told me she’s worked with him before and she’s happy he’s here. I mean, Hester, she doesn’t like anybody.”

Dean raises his hand like he can’t believe what he’s hearing. “Did you listen to me?”

Charlie pats his leg again. “Of course I did. And I understand where you’re coming from, but maybe he’s just had a bad day. Like you.”

“What?” Dean gets up from his chair. “He ruined my whole day. He is my bad day.”

“I know,” Charlie taps the chair Dean jumped up from to signal him to sit down again. “But think about it. He had the same day you had. He was up early, had to go grocery shopping, make a doctor’s appointment in time, and start a new job. Wouldn’t you be cranky if you were already that stressed when someone spilled coffee all over you?”

“But-” Dean knows that Charlie has a point, but he still can’t get over the way Castiel behaved. “But he didn’t have to be such an ass about it.”

Charlie shrugs. “Whatever you say. It’s just such a shame. I mean, a week ago you complained about how hard it is to find cute guys. And now there’s one right in front of you - a doctor, even -, and you don’t want to give him a chance.”

“Charlie, he could be the nicest guy in the universe,” Dean says, stretching out his words to emphasize his point, “that doesn’t make him any less straight.”

Charlie laughs. “Oh no, he isn’t. I don’t know what he is, but straight is not on the list.”

Dean remembers how Castiel looked at him in the coffee shop and wonders what Charlie knows. Maybe Hester has told her more about Castiel than she’s letting on. “What makes you say that? Do you know something?”

“No, I don’t know,” Charlie says and shrugs, “it’s just my gut feeling. Anyway, I should probably work, huh?”

She takes off, and Dean looks after her. He doesn’t want to believe it, but so far Charlie has never been wrong.


	4. Chapter 4

The rest of the day goes better than Dean had anticipated. Castiel does whatever Dean tells him to do, which is fun for Dean since it’s way more than most doctors usually do. Dean even thinks about making Castiel stay late, but he has to go home and get ready for the charity gala.

At least the garage called, which means Dean is going to get Baby back. He’s been dreading that he might have to try to get to the gala without a car. It’s at some rich guy’s mansion in the middle of nowhere, and Dean isn’t a carpool kind of person. Especially not when he has to wear a fancy suit. He lays out the jacket on the back seat while he drives, keeping it wrinkle free. It’ll be hard enough to get through an evening with all the stuck up doctors; he won’t give them a chance to look down on him for his clothes.

Inside the mansion, Dean immediately hits the bathroom to make sure he looks okay. His jacket still looks fine, and Dean feels presentable, aside from the dark rings under his eyes. This day has really taken it out of him, and it’s not even close to over yet. Dean walks over to the buffet next to recharge his batteries, hoping that maybe they’ll have pie, or at least some tarts but just as he’s about to grab a plate, he hears an all too familiar voice. 

“Nice car you have there,” it says, and Dean spins around to see Castiel standing directly behind him. Dean sighs, ready for another fight. 

“What?” 

“I saw you outside when you arrived. The black Chevy Impala,” Castiel says.

“So?” Dean spits. “What’s wrong with my car?”

Castiel doesn’t have time to answer. A red-haired woman comes up behind him and grabs his arm. “There you are. Who’s your friend?”

She smiles at Dean, but once Castiel tells her, that will probably change. Dean starts to respond himself, but Castiel beats him to it. “Dean, this is my sister, Anna. Anna, this is Dean. He’s the head nurse for me at my new hospital. I’ve never seen someone so efficient and professional. He runs the whole show, and I would have been lost today without his help.”

Dean is busy trying to think of a witty comeback, so, it takes a moment for him to understand that Castiel actually didn’t insult him this time. He takes Anna’s hand more out of reflex than real comprehension of what is going on. “It’s nice to meet you, Dean,” Anna says.

“Likewise,” is the only thing Dean manages to say, still not sure if Castiel meant what he just said.

“The Chevy is Dean’s car,” Castiel explains into the silence. “The one I showed you outside.”

Anna frowns. “Oh, the black one you made me look at? '69 Impala?”

“‘67,” both Dean and Castiel say at the same time.

Anna raises her hands in defeat. “Alright, I’m sorry. No offense to you, Dean, I’m sure it’s a lovely car, but I’m going to take my brother away from you now to meet people who won’t talk about cars the whole evening.”

“No problem,” Dean says, managing his first smile in the whole exchange, “have a nice evening.”

“You too,” Anna says, and when she leads Castiel away, he gives Dean a quick nod and Dean is puzzled by the look on Castiel’s face. He seems grateful.

Of course, it makes sense that Castiel wouldn’t want his sister to hear what an asshole he’s been, but Dean has a feeling that there’s more to it. And the way Castiel talked, Dean is sure that he didn’t make fun of his car but actually likes it. Maybe, just maybe, there’s a chance that Dean can forgive Castiel. They don’t get to talk again, though. They pass each other occasionally, but always seem to be engaged in conversation with other people, and only share quick glances.

During the last hour of the gala, Dean doesn’t see Castiel at all, and wonders if he’s left early. That’s what Dean is planning to do. He’s made his required appearance - that’s enough. Now all he wants to do is go home and eat ice cream and chocolate, since he still doesn’t have pie.

As he drives along the long-ass driveway to the main gate, Dean fantasizes about the contents of his freezer; he almost doesn’t notice the person standing on the side of the road, next to a huge tree that branches out over the gate. Without thinking, Dean swerves to the side so he won’t block anybody behind him and pulls up next to Castiel who’s typing on his phone. Dean rolls down his window and leans outside. “Are you waiting for your sister?”

Castiel’s head snaps up, and for a moment he stares at Dean before shaking his head. “She had to leave early. I’m calling a cab.”

“Out here?” Dean huffs a laugh. “That could take a while. How about I give you a ride?”

“No, it’s fine. I’ll wait,” Castiel says, but it comes out too fast. He didn’t give it any thought and only uses the polite response.

Dean can’t believe that he’s about to convince a guy he met this morning and doesn’t particularly like to get into Baby, but here they are. “Look, I know we are not on the best of terms, but out here, the temperature drops fast at night. We’re about 45 minutes away from the nearest taxi dispatch. If they send somebody out at all, you might have to wait here for over an hour. Just hop in.”

Dean can see the struggle on Castiel’s face, but then he puts his phone away. “Okay,” he sighs and walks around the car to get in the passenger seat. He looks as uncomfortable as humanly possible and presses out a “thank you” between his lips.

“No problem,” Dean says. He pulls back into the middle of the driveway, and they follow another car through the gate. 

Dean turns up the volume on the radio, but the quiet between Castiel and him is more than a little awkward. He hates that, and although he’s probably going to regret it, he does want to make an effort to mend fences with Castiel. After all, they’re going to be working together.

“So, you know a little something about cars?” he asks.

Castiel flinches, seemingly surprised that Dean is actually talking to him, but then he shrugs. “A little. I’m not an expert, but I like to think that I recognize a beautiful car when I see it. Like this one.”

“Well, thank you,” Dean says, unable to keep the teasing tone out of his voice. “I’m sure she appreciates the compliment, right Baby?”

“I hope so.” There’s a little smile playing around Castiel’s lips. It makes his whole face light up, especially his eyes, and now Dean understands why Charlie called him dreamy. 

“What do you drive?” Dean asks, trying to get the conversation going.

“1978 Lincoln Continental,” Castiel says. “I got it from my father. It’s somewhat of a family heirloom.”

Dean gets the impression that Castiel is more excited about the Impala than his own car, but he’d rather not press the issue. “That’s a nice car,” he offers, but Castiel doesn’t react. Instead, he turns a little in his seat to get a better look at Dean.

“Where did you get your ‘Baby’?” he asks, using air quotes.

“I know a guy who knows a guy who needed to sell the car in a hurry since he left the country. I got it super cheap,” Dean says.

“How cheap?” 

Dean doesn’t want to give Castiel a number, but if he’s such a car freak, he’s probably thinking of one already. “About half the price most people would pay for it.”

Castiel falls back into his seat. “I hate you right now.”

“Now?” Dean huffs. “Unlike the rest of the day.”

They stay silent for a while, but then Castiel turns to Dean completely. “I need to apologize for my behavior today. I knew that I had this busy day ahead of me, starting a new job above all. I am not a morning person, and since I’ve moved here, I kept running into rude and thoughtless people. Your coffee on my shirt was the final straw, I suppose. But that’s no reason to behave as I did. I’m sorry.”

Dean has to take his eyes off the road to look at Castiel for a moment. “Wow, I don’t think I’ve ever heard a sincere apology from a doctor.”

“I’m not apologizing as a doctor,” Castiel says, “but as a person who’s been an asshole to you.”

“I called you that in my head. Mr. Asshole.”

Dean can’t help but smile when Castiel laughs. “At least you added the mister. That’s so polite.”

Dean shrugs and Castiel gets serious again. “So, do you accept my apology?” he asks.

“I can do you one better,” Dean says, “since I’m so polite and nice, and an overall awesome guy, I not only accept your apology, but I also forgive you.”

“Thank you, Dean.”

Castiel could have teased Dean, but he sounds sincere, so Dean swallows his pride to go even one step further. “I’m sorry as well. Especially that thing about you not reproducing, that was uncalled for. I’m sure you’d be a great father. If you aren’t already.”

“I’m not,” Castiel says. “But thank you.” He looks out of the window like the conversation is over, but then he turns to Dean again. “I honestly don’t know why I exploded like that right away. I guess I didn’t expect to participate in a wet shirt contest at 6 am.”

Dean laughs. “Was that a joke, Dr. Novak?”

Castiel rolls his eyes, but as he turns to the window, Dean catches that small smile playing around his lips again and curses Charlie in his head. She’s planted the idea there that Castiel could be something more than just a colleague to him, and now that Dean doesn’t hate Castiel’s guts anymore, he can see the appeal.

After dropping Castiel off at his apartment, Dean buries himself in pillows and blankets on his couch to watch an episode of Dr. Sexy while finally gorging himself on ice cream and chocolate. It's supposed to be his treat for the day, but somehow he ends up imagining Castiel as Dr. Sexy and himself as the love interest, and although he knows in real life it would be such a bad idea for so many different reasons, the fantasy becomes his real treat for the day.


	5. Chapter 5

Dean had thought that yesterday was terrible; now he knows that it was practically a walk in the park compared to today.

Just five minutes after his shift starts, they get word of multiple crashes on a nearby highway, and twenty minutes later the first casualties arrive. He calls in more colleagues and has to push back scheduled routine surgeries, making room to operate and have doctors to take care of the wounded. 

He’s glad that he’s on good terms with Castiel now, since they have to work closely together to get everyone the best possible treatment. The later it gets, the fewer words they need speak to get their points across. 

Dean only takes short breaks to go to the bathroom or eat a quick snack, but when he reaches hour sixteen in his shift, Charlie forbids him to do another thing, and Dean agrees to at least lie down for a bit.

The staff has a small room near the nurse’s station where they keep miscellaneous supplies when they run out of storage, and where, after a day like this, they can crash on two discarded hospital beds. Dean closes his eyes and tries to breathe, and while he feels a little guilty to just stop working when people are still in danger, he hopes that nobody will come and get him. He’s not sure he can get up just yet, and it probably wouldn’t be a good idea to let him anywhere near a patient.

Dean drifts in and out of consciousness; he’s lost all track of time when somebody else walks into the room. When the person closes the door behind them, the only light comes through the half-shut roller blind from a street lamp outside. They come closer, and Dean sits up to get a better look. “Hey,” he says.

“Hello, Dean,” Castiel replies. “I didn’t mean to wake you. Charlie sent me in here, and I thought it best not to contradict her.”

“Good choice. She’s a lamb, but you better not cross her.”

“Is that a requirement to work here?” Castiel asks.

Dean smiles, wondering why they still can’t have a normal conversation, but keep teasing each other instead. “They hired you.”

Castiel walks over to the other bed and sits down. “I’m trying to think of a smart answer, but I’m too tired.”

“You should sleep, I didn’t mean to keep you up,” Dean says. He lies back down, and from the corner of his eye, he can see that Castiel is doing the same. They stay like that for a while, but Dean has a hard time falling asleep again, and from Castiel’s breathing pattern, Dean can tell that he’s not sleeping either.

“You still awake?” Dean whispers into the dark in case he’s wrong.

“Yes.” Castiel answers.

Dean stretches in his bed and turns around, trying to find Castiel’s shape in the twilight. “It’s hard to relax once the adrenalin is going, huh?”

“True.” Castiel turns around in his bed as well, the light from outside illuminating him like he’s a ghost. “I keep thinking about my last patient. I had to make the incision for the surgery right on top of his soul mark. I tried to stitch it up as cleanly as possible, but half of it is just gone.”

Dean nods in understanding until he remembers that Castiel might not be able to see him. “I wouldn’t worry too much about it. It might come back.”

“Come back?” Castiel asks with doubt in his voice. “How?”

Dean regrets that he said something. He never told anybody about his attempt to change his mark. “I got a tattoo on top of my soul mark. It didn’t work. After a while, the ink disappeared, and the mark came back. I don’t know about your patient, but maybe it works the same way for everyone.”

“But why would you do that?” Castiel sits up and swings his legs over the rim of the bed, so he keeps facing Dean. “Why would you cover up your mark?”

“I just-,” Dean doesn’t want to answer and has no idea what to say. When he stays silent, Castiel looks down at the floor.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to pry. I’m just so used to people showing off their mark, I never thought that somebody might want to hide it,” he explains.

Later, Dean isn’t sure what exactly made him stand up and walk over to Castiel. Maybe it’s the tone of his voice. He’s not judging Dean, but he sounds curious. Dean sits down next to Castiel and rolls up his sleeve to show him his soul mark. “My mom’s and dad’s match, and my brother found his wife with the same mark, but I’ve never been that lucky. I kind of gave up on it. And I figured if it didn’t matter anyway, I’d say ‘fuck you’ to fate and put a mark of my choice on there.”

Castiel leans over to see the mark, only visible in a narrow streak of light. “It’s mesmerizing. I like those- what is it? Wings?”

His fingers carefully trace over the mark, and Dean gets goosebumps all over his skin, not only on his arm. His excitement evaporates when he thinks about Castiel’s words though. They don’t have the same mark.

Dean hates himself for even thinking about this. He swore to ignore the whole soul mark thing and why would Castiel of all people be his soulmate? But Dean has to admit that in this light, it does look like wings.

“I’ve never been quite sure what it is. But I guess it could be wings,” Dean says.

“I think so,” Castiel says. He keeps runnings his fingers over the outline of the peculiar shape but looks up at Dean. “What would you want it to be?”

Dean doesn’t answer. He’s caught off guard by Castiel’s eyes. They are incredibly blue and only now does it dawn on Dean how close they are. He wants to answer, and under normal circumstances, he would, but nothing about this feels normal. They’ve had a horrible and stressful day, Dean is out of his mind with exhaustion, Castiel still has his hand on Dean’s arm, and the light from outside surrounds Castiel’s head like a halo.

Dean aches for comfort, so he leans in and kisses Castiel. For a split second nothing happens, until Castiel’s fingers close around Dean’s arm and he holds on so tightly that it’s almost painful.

The same force goes into their kiss, their lips pressed together and both of them holding their breath. They only relax when Dean’s hand wanders up Castiel’s back until it rests on his neck and Dean’s fingers toy with Castiel’s hair. Dean is so bewitched by what’s happening that it takes him a second to register it when Castiel suddenly lets go of him. He goes rigid under Dean’s arm and jumps up without warning. “I can’t- I’m not-” he stutters and stumbles to the door.

While Castiel fumbles it open, Dean jumps up as well, trying to hold him back, but Castiel throws the door open and runs outside. With a sigh, Dean falls back onto the bed. He’s already fucked up so bad, running after Castiel and confronting him in the middle of a crowded hospital is not a good idea.

Why had Dean even kissed him? Sure, it was nice to be on good terms after their rocky first meeting, but they’re barely even friends...Castiel touching Dean’s arm is hardly reason enough to try and jump his bones. Dean buries his head in his hands and takes about 10 minutes to hate himself before he has an idea. He walks outside to the nurse’s station and gets on one of the computers. 

“I thought I told you to sleep!” Charlie appears behind Dean, and her tone is anything but friendly.

“I’ll go home in a second,” Dean says, hoping that Charlie can’t see what he’s doing. “I just needed to check something.”

“Oh,” Charlie says. “Home? Since when are you reasonable?”

Dean just accessed the database to get Castiel’s private cell number. Reasonable is not the word he’d use. “Since you’ve been teaching me,” Dean says and taps Charlie’s head. “I’m out. G’night.”

“G’night,” Charlie says and sends him on his way by smacking his ass.

The whole drive home Dean thinks about calling Castiel, but once he’s sitting in his kitchen, a glass of whiskey in front of him, he chickens out. He’d probably mix up his words and make everything even worse. So a text it is. Dean squints at his phone and hopes that what he’s typing will still make sense tomorrow when he’s not sleep deprived.

_I shouldn’t have this number, but I couldn’t wait to say this. I’m so sorry that I kissed you. I had no right to do so without your consent. I take full responsibility and will face any actions you want to take against me._

It sounds horrible, but Dean can’t think of anything more to say. He fucked up, and he has to deal with it. Considering what Castiel did after the coffee incident, Dean feels a storm coming. He empties his glass and stumbles to his bed. Waking up tomorrow is going to be a bitch.


	6. Chapter 6

Dean sleeps for twelve hours but still feels like shit when he wakes up, and he’s pretty sure that there’s nothing that’s going to make him feel better. 

Yesterday, he knows, he did something impulsive, but in the harsh light of morning he can only imagine how much trouble might be heading his way. Castiel could tell HR what Dean did, and then he might not only be out of a job but also screwed in terms of finding another. He’d thought it was a good idea to apologize to Castiel right away, but even in his text, he’d admitted that he wasn’t supposed to have that number. He could get in trouble for that on top of everything else.

Since it’s Dean’s day off, he contemplates finishing yesterday’s bottle of whiskey for breakfast but concludes that it’s better to stay sober. He doesn’t need people to think he’s a drunk. By the time Dean is downing his second cup of coffee, there's a knock on the door. He wonders if he might be getting a package he forgot about, but when he opens the door, he’s surprised to be looking into a pair of incredibly blue eyes.

“Hello, Dean,” Castiel says and Dean wants to disappear. He just stares until Castiel speaks again. “Can I come in?”

Dean steps aside to let Castiel in, and after he closed the door, he walks past him to lead him back to the kitchen. They sit down at Dean’s small table, and that’s when Dean notices the box in Castiel’s hands.

Castiel pushes it over to Dean. “It’s pie. I felt like I owe you one,” he says.

“Owe me-?” Dean stutters. “Am I dreaming?”

“I got your text, and I’m not planning on telling anybody about this. You’re not in trouble,” Castiel says. “I’m not even mad at you; you did nothing wrong.”

“But I just kissed you without asking or giving you a chance to get away,” Dean says. He’s so confused now that he wonders if he remembers everything from last night.

Castiel nods. “That’s true, you shouldn’t have done that, but I’m trying to say that it wasn’t your fault that I ran away. It’s just that- I am-,” Castiel stumbles over the words and Dean finally comprehends that Castiel came here to tell him something important.

“Do you want a glass of water, maybe?” Dean asks, and Castiel nods again.

“Yes, please.”

While Dean gets the water, Castiel keeps fumbling with the box of the pie and Dean begins to wonder what it is that makes him so nervous. He’s been calmer when going into three hours of surgery with a patient who probably won’t make it.

“Here you go,” Dean says when offering Castiel the glass and while Castiel drinks, Dean sits down and looks at the pie instead of Castiel. “Whatever you want to say, it’s okay. I won’t judge.”

Castiel puts down the glass, and there’s silence between them until Castiel takes one deep breath and starts to explain. “At the coffee shop, you said you didn’t do anything straight. I assume that means you’re-?”

“Gay,” Dean finishes the sentence and Castiel nods along before he keeps talking.

“I’ve had two girlfriends in longer relationships, and in between, I wasn’t looking for anybody. My family and my whole social circle are what you might call heteronormative. It never occurred to me that there might be anything else,” Castiel says.

Dean begins to see where this might be heading but he stays silent while Castiel takes another sip of water. “About three years back, I noticed some changes about myself,” Castiel says. “I looked at men and felt interested in a way that I didn’t know was a valid option. A friend of mine suggested that I put some distance between my family, my friends and me to explore those feelings.”

When Castiel falls silent again, Dean tries to help him along. “That’s why you moved?” he asks.

“Yes,” Castiel says. “It helped open up my mind to other possibilities, but until this morning I’ve never met anyone who openly came out like that in public, especially to an unfriendly stranger. I was impressed, but I still have a hard time admitting that I’m-”

He struggles to find the words again. “That you are bi?” Dean suggests. “Or something in that direction?”

Castiel hesitates. “Yes, bi.” He takes another deep breath after using the word. “I’ve never said it out loud, but I guess that’s what I’d call it.”

Dean buries his face in his hands. “Jesus, and I just freaking kissed you. I feel even worse now.” 

He looks up and tries to convey with his eyes how awful he feels about his actions. “I’m so sorry, Cas.” 

“It’s okay.”

“It’s not, I shouldn’t have-” Dean stops, horrified by himself. “And now I just called you Cas. What’s wrong with me?”

Castiel huffs a laugh. It’s tiny and barely audible, but it's there. “You can call me Cas, everybody does. And you don’t have to worry. I didn’t run away because I felt assaulted by you. I ran away because I might have enjoyed the kiss and that means admitting that there is, in fact, something more to it than I thought.”

Dean tries to put his worries aside and focus on Cas instead. “So you’re still not sure?”

“I-,” Castiel sighs. “That’s partly why I’m here. I wanted to ask you for a favor.”

“Sure, anything,” Dean blurts out, happy that he might be able to help Cas.

“Could you kiss me again?” Cas asks.

The question hangs in the room between them, and Dean feels the goosebumps again, but he nods. “I could. I mean, I wouldn’t mind if that’s what you want?”

“I’ve been up all night thinking about it. Yesterday I was too surprised to take much notice. So yes, I’m sure. I need to know,” Cas says.

“You haven’t slept?” Dean asks.

“Dean!” 

Castiel’s voice is exhausted, but it prompts Dean to get to his feet. “Fine, but I can’t kiss you over this table.”

Castiel gets up and walks over to Dean, but then he stands there, arms hanging on his sides, raising his shoulders. “I have no idea how to-”

Dean moves in before it can get awkward. He places his hands below Cas’ cheeks with the softest touch he can manage and leans in to bring their lips together. It’s nothing like their first kiss, and when Cas kisses him back, Dean wishes he would have done it right the first time. They brush their lips together just a little bit longer before they both move apart.

Dean watches Cas closely and hopes that he didn’t fuck up again. “Was that okay? Are you okay?”

“It was fine. I’m fine,” Castiel answers, somewhat bewildered.

“So, did that do anything for you?” Dean can’t help but ask.

Cas laughs, all the built-up tension finally leaving his body. “Yes, it did. I guess I have an answer.”

“Not straight,” Dean prompts and Cas nods.

“Not straight.”

“I am an excellent kisser though,” Dean says, “so you have to factor that in.”

Castiel fights a smile. “I will. And thank you. I needed this.”

Dean shrugs. “Hey, no problem. Figuring all that out, it’s not easy. Believe me, I know. So if you ever need to talk-”

“Thank you, Dean. That means a lot,” Castiel says.

“And you know, if more kissing is needed-” Dean winks at Cas, who laughs.

“I’m good for now. I think I might need to go home and be by myself for a while.”

“Sure,” Dean says, “and please, sleep.”

“I will,” Cas confirms. Dean leads him to the door. After Cas steps outside and they say their goodbyes, Cas turns around again. “Dean?”

“Yes?”

“You really are an excellent kisser,” Castiel says.

He walks away before Dean can even begin to think about an answer, and when Dean closes the door he doesn’t only have goosebumps, but tiny butterflies are raving in his stomach.


	7. Chapter 7

“Okay, one more question,” Dean says, holding on to Cas by the sleeve of his lab coat.

Castiel rolls his eyes. “I should take care of the patients once in a while.”

Dean waves his hand dismissively. “Come on; it’s not so busy today.”

“Fine, one more,” Cas says, propping himself up on the counter while Dean leans back in his chair.

They’ve been doing this since their shifts started. They keep asking each other questions between patients, and Dean has been having way more fun with it than he thinks he probably should. So far, he’s found out that Cas is a big fan of Led Zeppelin, has seen Star Wars way too many times, and likes to fix cars at a friend’s garage just for the fun of it. He even offers to take a look at Baby to make sure the cheap garage did a good enough job.

“Okay, I have to ask. The tiny dog. I mean, really?” Dean asks and accompanies the question with a smile, hoping that he’s not offending Cas again.

Lucky for him, Cas laughs. “Milo is my brother’s dog. He was sick and needed more walks than usual, so Gabriel made me do it. Otherwise, he’d probably be still cleaning his apartment. How are your shoes?”

“Oh, don’t worry, all cleaned up. Your shirt?” Dean asks.

“Good as new,” Cas says. “Can I treat my patient now?”

Dean nods and Cas takes the file and disappears into the next treatment room, so Dean gets back to his paperwork. At least he tries.

“Somebody is crushing on the horrible, new doctor,” Charlie teases Dean. “Why do you care about his shirt? Do you feel like taking it off?”

“The shirt I showered with coffee,” Dean explains, but Charlie doesn’t give up.

“The second question still stands,” she says.

Dean looks up to make sure nobody else is close enough to hear him. “If I do, it’s your fault.”

Charlie’s eyes grow big, and she sits down next to Dean. “Wait for a second; you like him? I sent him into the nap room so the two of you could make up, nobody said anything about kissing.”

“We both apologized, and now we get along. No big deal,” Dean says, hoping Charlie won’t be able to tell that they actually kissed.

“That’s great,” Charlie says. “And I’m glad you’re not wasting any time. I think Meg might also be trying to flirt with him.”

“Also? Wait, she is?” Dean doesn’t know what bothers him more, Charlie thinking that he flirts with Cas or the fact that he might have competition. 

Charlie doesn’t have time to answer before Cas comes back. He adds a note to the file and hands it to Dean.

“That was quick,” Dean says.

“Just a prescription.” 

Castiel keeps looking at Dean, and being the focus of those eyes sends a shiver down Dean’s spine. “What?”

“No more questions?” Cas asks.

“Oh, I have one,” Charlie says. “If you don’t mind?”

“Okay, go ahead.”

“What kind of food do you like, you know, like Chinese, Mexican, Italian? That sort of thing,” Charlie says, and Dean gets a bad feeling. He has an idea where she might be going with that question.

“I like burgers,” Cas says. “There’s a tiny place near my apartment that has the best bacon cheeseburgers.”

“You like burgers?” Dean asks, unable to hide his surprise. Cas doesn’t look like somebody who’s fond of eating with his hands.

Before Cas can answer the question, Charlie chimes in, “That sounds great. I could go for a burger. Why don’t we all go there? How about Saturday at 8?”

“Sure, I’d like that,” Castiel says.

Charlie turns to Dean, and he’s not sure if he hates or loves her at that moment. “Why not? I’m game,” he says.

“Great. It’s gonna be-” Charlie interrupts herself and makes a sad face. That’s exactly what Dean was worried about. “I forgot, I have the late shift on Saturday. Bummer. But you two go ahead, I’ll join some other time.”

She pats Dean on the shoulder and walks away with a smile. Dean takes a deep sigh. “You don’t have to go,” he says while doing his best not to look at Cas.

Cas takes his next patient file and leans over the counter, lowering his voice. “I’m aware that Charlie is a vegetarian. I’ll be there on Saturday. You can join me if you like.”

He walks away before Dean can answer and Dean looks down at his stomach, wondering where all those stupid butterflies are coming from.

During the rest of his shift, Dean doesn’t have time for the question game anymore. Missouri got word about a ‘surprise’ audit and Dean has to make sure all their paperwork is in order, which it usually isn’t. They are so busy with patients that often the paperwork gets put off for as long as possible, and soon, Dean lets Ruby and Meg take over for him so he can dig through his mountain of paperwork without distractions. It still takes forever, and when he’s done, he heads to the nap room to close his eyes for a little while before driving home.

When he opens the door, there’s a dark shape in one of the beds, so he silently heads for the other one.

“Dean, is that you?” Cas speaks into the darkness.

“Yes. How did you know?” Dean asks, trying hard not to think about the last time the two of them were in here.

“I caught a glimpse when you came inside.”

Dean sits down on the bed. “I didn’t know you were still here. But since you are, I’ll be there on Saturday.”

“Good,” Cas says, and Dean allows himself to believe that he’s smiling. He lies down and listens to Cas breathing since he’s pretty sure he won’t be able to sleep with Cas in the room. After a while, Cas turns around. Dean looks over at him, and their eyes meet. “We’re not good at this,” Cas says, and Dean huffs a laugh.

“Nope. I keep thinking about our last conversation in here. About the soul marks,” Dean admits, acting as if something like a kiss didn’t happen.

“Do you think they mean something?” Cas asks.

“Like what?”

Cas sits up, acknowledging that they’re going to talk instead of sleeping, so Dean does the same. “Like your tree. Maybe it means that you’re reliable, that people see you as a home.”

“You did see that it is burning, right?” Dean says, unable to keep the sarcasm out of his voice.

Cas shrugs. “You have a choice there. You can be a home or burn it all down. Or you have to look at it as a journey. Once you decide to be there for yourself, and not just others, you get to be free. You get your wings.”

“Well, that’s better than anything I’ve ever came up with,” Dean says. His words are shallow, considering that Cas wants to have a meaningful conversation with him, but Dean has a hard time seeing the mark as anything other than a burden.

“What about your mark?” he asks.

“It’s different. There aren’t ‘pictures,’” Cas says, using the air quotes again.

“Can I see it?” Dean asks intrigued. 

“I’d have to undress.”

Dean laughs. “And you want music for that or-?” He knows he’s on thin ice and asking Cas to get naked in front of him is probably not a good idea considering his crush, but Dean has always had a knack for bad decisions.

It’s hard to see with the little light they have, but Dean is sure that Cas rolls his eyes. Still, he shrugs off his lab coat and grabs the hem of his shirt. Dean bites his lip and wonders if it is that hot in the room or if it’s just him. Cas changes his mind though, and instead of lifting his shirt, he’s undoing his buttons. Dean feels like somebody is unwrapping a present for him. 

“See? It’s more like words.” Cas says, and Dean only now remembers that there’s something in particular he’s supposed to look at.

“It’s difficult in the light. I have to come closer,” Dean says and Cas nods.

Dean walks over to the other bed and sits down next to Cas who leans back to give Dean a better look. His mark is on the left side of his stomach and consists of four lines of symbols. It looks like an old text you might find etched into the wall of a hidden cave.

“Any idea what it means?” Dean asks.

“I tried to find out,” Cas says, “but if it even is a language, I couldn’t find anybody to read it.”

“Some of the symbols repeat.” Dean leans in closer to get a better look and traces the first line with his fingers. “Maybe it’s something super mysterious.” Dean drops his voice and acts like he's reading from an old script. “He who bears the mark shall rise again. His time shall cometh after the second dawn, with Orion in the house of-”

“Dean,” Cas interrupts him, his voice hoarse.

Dean’s hand is still on Cas’ stomach, his fingers drawing little circles that have nothing to do with the mark. He just can’t help himself. He looks up at Castiel who stares right back at him, his eyes full of an intensity Dean has never seen before, even on their first day when Cas was angry at him. You could cut the tension between them with a knife.

The smart thing to do is to get up and go home, but Dean rarely does the smart thing. He leans in and is about to kiss Cas, but then he stops himself. “Son of a bitch, I almost did it again.”

“If it’s any consolation, I won't run away this time,” Cas says.

He keeps looking at Dean with that intense stare, so Dean moves closer to him, but he still waits for Cas to take the final step. Cas lifts up his chin to close the small gap between them and kisses Dean. It’s nothing like the other times they kissed. The first time was a shock for Cas, and the second one was just a test. This time, though, Cas kisses Dean like he means it.

They brush their lips together until Cas teases Dean’s lower lip with his tongue, and soon they deepen the kiss, tasting each other and barely taking the time to breathe. Cas runs his hands up Dean’s arms and to his shoulders, leaving goosebumps in their wake. His fingertips claw at Dean’s scrubs, and Dean can feel it on his skin. 

Dean wishes the fabric wasn’t there so Cas could have as much access to naked skin as he does. He leaves the one side of Cas’ stomach and explores his body by running his hands from Cas’ neck over his chest down to the hem of his pants. Dean’s fingers trail along that last line of defense where he falls in love with Cas’ hip bones which peek out from under the fabric. Dean imagines what it would be like to follow the same route with his tongue, but they’d have to stop kissing for that, and Dean is enjoying that too much to stop. Instead, he nibbles at Cas’ lips and takes pleasure from the way Cas’ breath hitches whenever Dean’s fingers find one of his sweet spots.

Cas fights back though. He gives up his hold on Dean’s shoulders, and one hand grabs his thigh while the other finds its way under Dean’s shirt. When Cas’ fingers make contact with Dean’s naked skin, it feels like lightning is hitting him, but just a second later all the pleasure turns into doubt and sadness with one particular thought in Dean’s mind.

They aren’t soulmates. 

Dean’s mark is on his arm, not his stomach, and they couldn’t be more different from each other. A cold sweat breaks out on Dean’s skin, and he leans away from Cas. “I- I can’t do this.”

“What’s wrong?” Cas says with wonder in his voice, but he lets go of Dean, and Dean jumps to his feet, running his hands through his hair.

“I am so sorry, I fucked this up so bad,” Dean says, taking a few steps away from the bed.

“You didn’t-” Cas tries to interject, but Dean doesn’t let him speak.

“I thought it was bullshit, okay? I thought the soul marks don’t mean anything, but they do,” Dean rants. “They do, and we’re not soulmates. One day you might find the person who belongs to you and whatever this is won’t matter. I can’t do that to myself or you. I just can’t.”

Dean turns to the door, barely listening to Cas, who’s still trying to object. After Dean throws the door open, he storms along the corridor, not caring about the looks he gets, and desperately hoping that Cas won’t follow him.


	8. Chapter 8

It’s been three days, and Dean has called in sick again at work. He knows he can’t hide forever, but so far he can’t imagine how he’s going to be able to face Cas ever again. His only progress from hiding in his bed is getting up and taking a shower because Charlie threatened to come over, and she has a key to his apartment.

Dean is sitting at the table in his kitchen and nursing a cup of coffee between his hands while he stares at the box of pie Cas brought over. It’s empty, but Dean can’t bring himself to throw it away. It’s like a symbol for his inner struggle. He should throw it out since nothing good can come of keeping it. But every time he tries, there’s that nagging voice in his head, telling him that there’s still a chance. 

Dean rolls up his sleeve and stares at his soul mark, the source of all his turmoil. He wishes he could burn it off or cut it out, but it seems that those damn things always come back. And even with his mark gone, there’s no chance that four lines of symbols will appear on his stomach. When Dean is about to crawl back into his bed, there's a knock on the door and Dean checks the clock on his microwave. He feared that this might happen. Charlie’s shift ended half an hour ago, and she’s probably here to check if he got his ass out of bed.

Dean scuffs to the door but stops himself before opening it. “Who is it?” he asks.

There’s a short silence before Cas answers. “It’s me.” Of course, it is. Dean argues with himself, not sure if he should open up when Cas keeps talking. “Charlie sent me when I tried to call you again,” he says. “She’s very persistent.” 

Dean wants nothing more than going back to bed and fall asleep, preferably forever, but since that won’t work, he opens the door. This time Dean doesn’t wait for Cas. He turns around and walks back into the kitchen. Cas follows him. He’s wearing a suit and the tan trench coat, the same outfit he wore when they first met. Everything would be so much easier if they could go back to hating each other.

Instead, Cas stares at the box on the table. “You didn’t throw it away?” He looks around like he needs to make sure this means something and that it isn’t just Dean being messy in general. 

“I want to,” Dean grunts, “but I can’t.”

Cas takes off his trench coat and hangs it over the chair before sitting down. “We miss you at the hospital,” he says. When Dean only huffs, he leans forward, determination in his tone. “I miss you.”

Dean shrugs. “That’s not the point. I told you why this is a bad idea.”

“Since the day I’ve learned about the marks, I’ve been looking for my soulmate. During that time, I met people who were 60 years and older, still hoping to find that special someone. Some of them never did,” Cas says, and Dean doesn’t contradict him. He met people like that as well.

Cas continues, “Every time I went into an operating room and cut somebody’s stomach open I looked for my mark. I didn’t care who that person was or what happened to them; I just wanted to find that mark. I didn’t.”

“You can still-” Dean starts, but Cas cuts him off.

“I don’t want to,” he says. “I didn’t try to cover it up, but I decided that this thing won’t keep me from being happy. I don’t care if I find someone when I’m 90, I want to feel the love now.”

Dean sighs. “You could run into your soulmate tomorrow.”

“I don’t care, Dean,” Cas growls, sounding more like the Cas Dean first met. “People keep talking about fate. Who cares that our marks don’t match? We ran into each other six times in one day; if that isn’t fate, then I don’t know what is.”

“You want to do this,” Dean says, and something inside of him roars, pushing him to listen to Cas.

“For the first time in a long while, I felt something. Maybe that’s what this means,” Cas says and touches his stomach. “Maybe that’s what your mark means. Forget about the rules. Burn the damn tree and fly.”

“And if you meet your soulmate?” Dean insists. 

“Then I’ll tell them as politely as possible that I have to go home and kiss my husband,” Cas says with not even a hint of doubt in his voice.

Dean raises his eyebrows. “Husband?”

“If you play your cards right.”

Cas tries to stay serious, but the hint of a smile tugs at his lips and Dean laughs. “Jesus, you are an asshole. I was planning on being miserable, and here you are with your stupid smile, and your stories about love and happiness.”

Cas only shrugs, and Dean stands up, gesturing for Cas to do the same. “Come on, get up.”

Cas does, but he furrows his brows. “Why?”

“Just do it!” Dean demands, and as soon as Cas is on his feet, Dean grabs him by his suit jacket and draws him in for a kiss. “I’ve wanted to do this since you walked in.”

“But you still let me talk and talk,” Cas grumbles. Dean only smiles, and Cas rolls his eyes. “Now who’s the asshole?”

Dean kisses Cas again, softer this time, the way you do when you want to avoid trouble with your spouse. “So, we’re doing this? Without all the soulmate rules?” he asks.

Cas nods. “We make it up as we go.”

“Maybe we should get matching tattoos,” Dean suggests and Cas tilts his head, thinking about it.

“Let’s discuss it over dinner,” he says.

“Dinner?” Dean asks.

“It’s Saturday,” Cas says, “Remember? 8 pm.”

Dean smiles. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed yourself and I'd be immensely happy about kudos and comments! :) Feel free to drop me a line on [tumblr](http://sternchencas.tumblr.com) as well or visit us on discord. It's a nice server with a bunch of friendly destiel lovers! :)


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